The Way Back
by OBluver
Summary: So many things were a mystery to Hermione. What brought her to the past? How can she return to her home? And why is Remus Lupin insistent on befriending her?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

 _Date:_

 _Feb 2nd_

The bell above the door rang out as a young mother hurriedly followed her son into the crowded bookshop. The shop is full of young children and families clamoring for the latest editions of cookbooks and wizarding histories. The noise and bustle would have been enough to frazzle even the most skilled attendant, but Hermione isn't fazed. She smiles as she rings up customers, makes various book recommendations, and manages to do it all while also restocking shelves and generally tidying things up. Anyone watching her would never even begin to suspect that she didn't belong there.

"Wild day, right?"

The Scottish baroque of her coworker Owen brought her from her thoughts. She responded with a non-committal nod, and continued restocking the display in front of her.

"Have any plans to keep the wild times rolling tonight?" He shot her his most charming smile, and she couldn't help but playfully roll her eyes at his obvious ploy.

"As usual, I'm going to enjoy a quiet night with my cat, thank you very much."

He sighed, leaning casually against the wall, sporting an exasperated expression. He was good looking, even Hermione could admit it. But he was also dangerous.

"Ah, lass, hasn't anyone told you that you need to live a little?"

"Yes. You in fact. Everyday."

"And I will continue to do so until the message finally sinks in."

The bell rang again, except this time a family of three entered, all with wide eyes.

"Ah, they must be muggleborn. Do you mind handling that? You're always so much more… what's the word?" He looked at her sheepishly, in a pose Ron had sported more than a few times, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"Sensitive? Practical? Muggleborn?"

"Yes, exactly! You're always much more sensitive that I am."

Without responding, she planted a reassuring smile on her face as she made her way to the family. It was amazing what comfort she could bring to lives of others while hers was in utter chaos. That was really the best part of this job. One of the only parts she actually found fulfilling.

The day continued on in its monotony. Patrons came in for books, and Hermione was happy to help them with their selections. The endless chatter, the search for the exact book they desired; these things kept her busy, and kept her mind from wandering too far.

When it was time to close up, she shooed Owen away, telling him to enjoy his night at the pub, and ran through the end of day routines automatically. Draw the blinds, sweep the floors, ensure all doors are magically locked and secured.

Before she exited the back door, she disillusioned herself, and stepped out quickly, apparating the exact moment she heard the click of the door's lock.

The woods around her tent were quiet, although she could still hear the slight echo of the crack her arrival had made. She went through her routines, quickly erecting the wards, ones that she had gone through countless times before, and that would protect her from the outside world. Once they were in place, she finally let her shoulders sag, and released the tension she'd been holding all day.

Upon entering the tent, she let her eyes scan the small set of rooms, trying to detect if anything was out of place. But everything was as it always was. Her papers were scattered over the kitchen table, and she moved some aside to make room for the bowl of cereal that made up her dinner. She tried not to let her eyes wander over to them as she ate.

'I can have this. 20 minutes of peace. I can have that.'

Switching on the radio, she let the music roll over her, taking her mind off the present. But even that only worked for so long. As one song turned into another, her heart sank at a familiar tune. It was one of Ginny's favorites. She knew all the words by heart, and had been aghast when neither Harry nor Hermione had recognized it.

"But it's a classic!" She shouted at them, causing the other patrons of the pub to shoot them weary looks.

"Maybe for those of you who grew up in the wizarding world." Harry chortled back, before throwing an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Hermione and I here have a different set of classics."

"What could be better than this?!" Ginny exclaimed in disbelief.

"Should we tell her about the Beatles?" Fake concern clouded Hermione's voice, as she grinned up at Harry.

"Nah, better not. Once she hears actual quality music, this song won't be able to hold up. We can't break her heart like that, can we?"

Ron returned from the bar with the next round of drinks, and they'd spent the rest of the night good naturedly comparing the merits of muggle and magical childhoods. While both Harry and Hermione admitted the advantages of magic when it came to cooking and housework, neither budged on music or films.

"I love the wizarding world, I really do, but it is so old-fashioned sometimes!" Hermione said. "That's where muggles shine. They're always innovating, trying to create the next best thing. All while the wizarding world is content to rely on the same old methods and magic that has always served them well. I swear, sometimes I think we're living in the past!"

The memory now made Hermione's stomach sour, and she switched off the radio with a definite click.

The papers she had hastily discarded earlier now called out for her to review their contents. Like it would make any difference. She had them memorized at this point.

Reaching into her bag, she pulls out the book she borrowed from the store before leaving, along with a Daily Prophet. She felt justified calling the book 'borrowed', as she had every intention of returning it, although she could see how it could be portrayed as stealing. If anyone at work found out that she often took books home, she would most definitely be fired.

Taking the Daily Prophet was much less egregious. She doubted if anyone would care or even notice if it was gone. Glancing at the cover she took in the headlines, noting the inanity of each.

There was a new proposal before the Wizengamot to make the sale of dragon scales illegal, sighting the pain the removal of scales causes the dragons. It would fail, as most pieces of creature advocacy legislation did.

A rumor was circulating that the Gringotts goblins were unhappy with a new book about the Goblin Rebellions that was set to be released next month. Apparently the author was less than empathetic towards the goblins plight.

And the Minister of Magic had moved to a new office.

Riveting.

A small burn of annoyance flared in her, as she took in the paper's contents. It was rubbish all of it. She wished they'd cover something important, something real, but the thought faded as she reminded herself of her place. She was not to get involved. It was all none of her business.

Before moving onto her book, she let her eye wander to the one place she'd been avoiding, although her avoidance had done little to change it. There is was, clear as day in the upper right hand corner of the paper.

She dropped the paper and picked up her book, trying not to think about it, any of it. The incident, her job, her friends, and most importantly the date. But, whether she liked it or not, she couldn't block it out completely.

The paper still laid innocently enough, faced up on her table, and clearly illuminated in the upper right corner was 'February 2nd, 1980."

A/N:

This is the first story I've written or posted in a long time. It's been floating around my brain for forever, so I hope you all enjoy!


	2. Chapter 1

_A/N - I'm reposting this chapter as a wonderful reviewer pointed out a discrepancy in the dates. I accidentally put 1981 instead of 1980. This was left over from a previous draft, and I, being the worst proof reading on the face of the Earth, failed to notice it. Thank you so much to the person who pointed it out, as dates are a pretty vital part of the story, I'd hate to have it be wrong!_

* * *

 _January 5th, 2000_

The room around her was dark, as it always was.

After she arrived, Hermione went around the room lighting the appropriate torches until the entire space was illuminated. Not that there was much to see.

The room was in its usual state. Empty, desolate, and ever so frustrating.

When Ollivander had first insisted she work on a project in the Department of Mysteries, she'd been confused, but also intrigued. That feeling had quickly faded once she'd gotten her task.

"As if this has anything to do with actual wand making." She grumbled, as she retrieved her tools from the beaded bag. She conjured a table and placed each instrument on it carefully. They were standard curse breaking equipment that she had borrowed from Bill and Fleur, and while she didn't think they would be of any use at all, it was worth trying nonetheless.

Quickly she got to work, not wanting to spend anymore time there than was necessary.

With the way Ollivander spoke of it, the area was akin to sacred. He had been her age when he first came in contact with the room. He'd only been an intern then. Having left Hogwarts top of his class, he'd floundered with a lack of direction after school, and ended up in the Department of Mysteries hoping the variety of studies and subject matters would put his intelligence to good use. They had given him the task they gave all interns; investigating the mysteries of a place they simply dubbed 'The Box.'

The Box was a bare room with low ceilings and four walls, whose only decoration were the torches that lined them. It would seem like a completely ordinary place, if not for the feeling. It was palpable the moment you crossed the threshold. An undercurrent of wild magic permitted every corner.

Therein lies the mystery.

No one knew where it came from, or even precisely what it was supposed to do.

Hermione supposed It was a hazing ritual of sorts, meant to test the interns on how they handled frustrating situations. A test that, Ollivander would be the first to admit, he had failed.

Like Hermione, he'd tried every method he could think of to reveal the room's magical purpose. And, like her, he'd failed to gleam anything of use. Revealing spells produced nothing. Curse breaking equipment couldn't pick up on any anomalies. Not even the tea leaves and crystal balls he'd resorted to in desperation gave any indication of a hidden meaning. On paper, it was a perfectly ordinary room. Except it wasn't, and everyone knew that.

About a month into his internship, Ollivander cracked. In frustration, he'd thrown his wand to the floor where it unceremoniously broke in two. While Ollivander was smart, he wasn't rich. He was already struggling with what little money he had, and certainly didn't have any extra for a replacement wand. Therefore, it only stood to reason that he would have to repair his own.

Deciding that the room was a lost cause, he dedicated all of the time he was meant to be researching its origins, to researching wand repair. This lead to his research into wand lore, and then finally into the actual making of his own wands. While he left his internship at the Department of Mysteries no closer to understanding the enigmas of the room, he had found the direction he had craved for his life.

Hermione had hated The Box from the moment she stepped foot in it. While Ollivander had felt reverence, she'd felt nothing but dread. The magic here reminded her of Fiendfyre, uncontrollable and dangerous. How she wished she could just shrug off her assignment as he had, but it was simply not in her nature. She would continue on with the frustrating work until she either uncovered the mysteries that were contained here, or she was forced to quit by outside forces.

A break, however, was acceptable.

After several hours of fruitless work, Hermione sat herself down roughly on a stool, and finally let her muscles relax. It was no use. The tools had been as futile as she'd expected. Needing to get her mind off the problem at hand, she let herself ponder the other large problem in her life.

Harry.

Last week's New Years party played in her mind. It had been an unmitigated disaster, although not a failure in the ways most people would have expected. Friends were plentiful at Grimmauld Place, and most everyone had laughed as they recalled stories from their youth. The alcohol flowed as arms were flung across the shoulders of old school friends, as they brought up memorable Quidditch matches and embarrassing stories about who had snogged whom.

When the bell struck midnight, everyone cheered, and the couples in the room engaged in that time honored tradition of sharing a kiss to ring in the New Year properly.

All except one couple.

She had noticed Harry slip out as the countdown began, and initially didn't think much of it. Harry was a private person, who did not like to show a lot of intimacy in public.

What worried her, however, was when Ginny failed to follow him. Instead, she stood solemnly, looking out a window, seeming to give no mind to the cheerful environment around her.

Her worries were not soothed as time went on, and as more and more guests made their leave, Harry's absence became even more apparent.

When Hermione finally found him, he was sitting on the Drawing Room floor.

"There you are."

Hermione was slightly embarrassed with just how relieved her voice sounded. Even now, almost two years after the war had ended, she still worried about his safety. It's part of moving on, she'd told herself, letting go of that constant need to check on Harry.

"How mad is she?" His voice was hollow, and his eyes didn't rise to meet hers.

She inelegantly took a seat next to him, letting her shoulder briefly bump his own. "I didn't ask."

"She wants to get rid of it Hermione."

"Get rid of what?"

He motioned in front of him, and it finally clicked.

"The tapestry?" She spouted out in disbelief. "You can't destroy it! It's a historical artifact!"

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at her reliably typical response. How very like Hermione to worry about the academic ramifications.

"She doesn't want to destroy it." He explained. "She wants to give it to the Malfoys. Get it out of the house."

Hermione's face screwed up in confusion. "Why?"

"Narcissa & Andromeda are the last descendants of the Ancient House of Black. Seeing as Andromeda's been scorched off, it only seemed fitting that the Malfoys should have it."

"Logically, that makes sense." She started slowly. "But obviously, you don't want to get rid of it."

He sighed deeply, pausing a moment before answering. "No, I don't."

"Then why should Ginny care?"

"We've… we've been trying to renovate the house so it's ready for…" He paused again, clearly contemplating his next words carefully. "For when we're ready for a family."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. "Ginny's not…"

"No, she's not." His quick words reassured her, but her heart beat remained quick.

The thought of Ginny & Harry having a baby shouldn't have disturbed her this much, but it did. None of them were ready to have children. It was too soon. Much too soon. They hadn't had time to fully recover, especially Harry. How could they bring a child into… Harry's continued speaking broke off her panicked thoughts.

"But it's something we've been talking about. Getting the house ready is something we can do in preparation."

"And this tapestry gets in the way of that how?"

"You have to see it from her point of view." His gaze was finally dragged away from the offending tapestry to focus on her. "To us, most of these people are abstract. We can learn about them, about the evil things that they did, but they can never really be… I don't know… real. We didn't grow up in their world, so their actions affect us differently than they did the Weasleys. Ginny has spent her whole life being looked down on by people like the Blacks. One of these scorch marks is a Black who was disowned for marrying a Weasley. These are people who have directly discriminated against, her, and her parents, and her grandparents, and she doesn't want a reminder of them in her home. She doesn't want to have to explain that to her children."

"I guess that's fair." Hermione conceded.

Harry leaned forward so his head rested in his hands, pulling slightly at his already messy hair. "That's what's so frustrating. It is fair. It's reasonable. And yet, I can't do it."

They sat in silence for a moment, both lost in their own worries.

"My parents…" He started then stopped, glancing at her guiltily. "Hermione, you can't repeat this to anyone else. They won't understand."

"I'd never." And they both knew Hermione meant it.

"My parents are a lot like these people to me. I know about their lives, what they were like, and I know that they loved me, but…"

"They're stories." She said, finishing the thought.

"Exactly." He sighed, as if the relief of saying the words aloud had rid him of some sort of burden. "They have never been real, not really, but Sirius... he was here. He was a living breathing example of my family. How can I give away a piece of him like that?"

Hermione paused for a minute, before answering gently. "Harry, Sirius hated this thing."

"Then why didn't he destroy it? He had no problem destroying other valuable artifacts, why not this one?" He responded, his voice rising in indignation.

"I... I don't know."

"Sirius wanted this here for some reason." There was a stubborness in Harry's voice that reminded her so much of the boy he had been at school. He had always been so sure of things, whether it be the safety of a broomstick, or Malfoy's guilt. "I won't be the one to go against his wishes."

"Even at the cost of your own happiness?" Hermione implored. "Sirius loved you, and would hold your happiness above all." She paused, thinking the matter over. A sudden thought struck her. "Ginny makes you happy, doesn't she Harry?"

There was a long pause before he responded, and Hermione wondered briefly if she'd overstepped some boundary.

"She makes me as happy as I think I'll ever be."

Her heart sped up again. "What does that mean?"

"Do you ever think we lost too much in the war?" He asked, eyes still trained up at the tapestry.

"I know we lost so many people…"

Harry interrupted her. "Not just people, but other things."

"Like what?" She questioned, genuinely not understanding what he was trying to say.

"It's… the things that normal people get, who haven't been through a war. To them everything is simple and uncomplicated. They can get their morning paper and not second guess everything they read. They can go out to the pub, and not have to always sit in a booth so that no ones back is to the door. They can look into the faces of their coworkers & neighbors and not have to wonder if those same people would have sold them out to the ministry during the worst of it. I know you still have problems sleeping. I do to."

"It takes time Harry. We've all talked to the healers. You can't get over things like what we've been through in a year or two, it takes time."

"Well I don't know about you, but I'm tired of waiting." His voice was hard, and she didn't know how to respond to it, so she didn't.

They sat their together until sunrise. Neither spoke, but they leaned against each other for support.

The topic of the tapestry hadn't come up since, but Hermione could see it weighing on him. He moved with a sort of monotony that was beginning to scare her, and yet, she was at a loss as of what to do.

She knew what he meant when he spoke about loss. So many things about their lives had been taken from them. Faith. Trust. Belief in the greater good. All the innocent delusions of childhood had been ripped from them far too early, and they were left to navigate the world much more cynically than they might have otherwise.

Harry had lost more than anyone else. It seemed that every time he let himself love someone, they were ripped away from him. And now when he finally has a chance for happiness, the past is threatening to swallow him whole.

All she wanted was to protect him. The boy who had been her first friend; who had become closer to family. Protecting him in the war had been simple. Keep him alive and moving. She would have died for him. She still would.

But protecting him now wasn't so simple. She couldn't protect him from his own mind, or from the circumstances that have brought about his unhappiness. And yet, she couldn't help but feel like it was her duty to try. All she wanted was her him to be happy. It was something she needed in her very core.

As she made to stand and resume her work, a glint of light from the corner of the room caught her eye.

It was the last thing she saw before the room around her suddenly spun, and then only darkness followed.

* * *

 _Feb 3rd, 1980_

The bell over the shop door rang out, indicating that a new customer had just entered, but the noise was not enough to rouse Hermione from her book. It had been a quiet night in the store, which was not unusual for a Friday, and Hermione had shooed Owen away, insisting that she'd be fine on her own. Really, she had just wanted some private time to conduct her research.

It was risky, researching time travel here in the store. If anyone even began to suspect she was from the future, all of the hard work she'd put into establishing herself would be ruined.

When she had first arrived in the past, she had wanted to stay in her tent until she thought of a way to return home. It quickly became clear that this plan wouldn't work. For one thing, she had limited supplies. After her year on the run, she was fairly adapt at foraging, and while the prospect turned her stomach, she was prepared for it. The problem lied in her lack of books. She couldn't very well confer with an expert on the subject, so books were her only way of gathering information. How was she to research and find a way home if she didn't have any reference material?

It was a conundrum. How was she supposed to find a way home without breaking the first rule of time travel: don't be seen.

And then it hit her.

There is no easier place to hide than in plain sight. No one spares a second glance at a shop girl, especially one who keeps her head down and minds her own business. It was the type of anonymity she needed. It gave her time.

"Excuse me."

The sound of the bell hadn't been enough to pull Hermione's attention from her book, but the sudden male voice had done the trick. She jumped, startled, her eyes darting up to meet those of…

Remus Lupin.

She couldn't help but stare at the man who was so familiar, yet so distinctly different. Youth shown through this man in a way that Hermione had never seen in her own time. His sandy blond hair was long and shaggy, and he was not nearly as skinny as his future counterpart. This Remus Lupin hadn't yet experienced the kind of horrors that made you lose your appetite.

Suddenly remembering herself, she shook her head and tried to put on a polite smile.

"I'm sorry. Can I help you?"

At the sound of her voice, he also seemed to snap from a daze.

"Um… well… yes, I'd like this one." He said, placing the book in his hand onto the counter.

She picked it up, examined the sticker and wrote the price out on a receipt. 'Just like for any other customer.' She thought. Because that's what he was here, not a teacher or a friend just a stranger.

"That'll be 2 sickles."

After a moment of no response, she looked up from her receipt to see that he was staring at her.

"Sir…" She started hesitatingly. At the sound of her voice, he jumped, as if startled.

"Sorry. I'm… you'll have to excuse me." When he didn't elaborate any further, she continued.

"Alright." She said slowly. "That'll be 2 sickles… please."

A small smile played on his lips as he dug through his small bag of coins. As he handed them over, their hands brushed, and she saw him start again. She tried her hardest to ignore the strange behavior as she put his book in a brown paper bag, and laid it on the counter instead of handing it over.

"Have a good night." Hermione said, putting on her best customer service voice.

"Thanks." He replied, although he didn't make a move to step away from the counter. No longer able to stomach the awkward atmosphere, she simply nodded at him before turning her back and heading towards the store's back room.

The moment he was out of sight, she breathed a sigh of relief. She'd known that she would probably run into a few familiar faces here in the past, and now that she had done so it was no longer an experience to be dreaded. That hadn't been too bad, had it? Lupin had been decidedly awkward, but that might not have been out of the ordinary. Future Lupin tended towards self pity, and the younger didn't have twenty years of experience to calm his nerves.

A bell sounded again, and, having been relieved from her earlier experience, this time she went out with a much sunnier disposition, only to realize her mistake. This time it hadn't been the front door bell that rang, but rather the desk service bell. And once again she was confronted by the young Lupin.

"Hello." He smiled as he talked, although it seemed a bit strained.

"Hello. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No… that is to say, yes." He continued quickly. "I just can't help but wonder. Have we ever met? You seem so familiar to me, but I can't manage to place your face."

Her heart froze, although she tried to keep her exterior as calm as possible.

"No, I'm sorry. I don't think we've ever met." The words come out a little more curtly than she'd meant them to, but in this circumstance, it couldn't be helped. If she'd been perturbed by his presence before, it was nothing to how she felt now.

"Maybe at Hogwarts? I graduated two years ago. It's a big place, we could have attended school together and never met."

She shook her head hurriedly. There was no way he could recognize her. It was impossible. They wouldn't meet for another thirteen years.

"No, I didn't attend Hogwarts."

His face slackened a bit in incredulity. "You didn't go to Hogwarts?"

"No." Hermione responded curtly.

"Oh, you must from an old wizarding family."

At first, the statement confused her, but then a thought struck her. It wasn't a statement at all, but an underhanded question.

"Excuse me?" She said, letting her shock at the question seep into her voice. Hermione had been used to being questioned about her blood status, but coming from Remus, someone who she knew as being so tolerant in her own time, it felt like a betrayal.

"Only very old wizarding families still homeschool their kids. I'd just assumed if you didn't attend Hogwarts, you must've been taught privately." He gave her a small smile, but must have sensed something was wrong, because it fell away quickly.

"Oh. I'm not."

Her clipped response shifted the mood between the pair, and the room felt suddenly very tense. Hermione desperately wished she could escape it all. It was exhausting.

Breathe. Compartmentalize. Don't think about the future, or the past, whatever it was at this point. Focus on the task at hand. It was how she had gotten so far without losing her mind, but Remus' presence was making it hard to forget.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you." His face was serious, and she could see that he meant it, but it wasn't enough. She wasn't bothered by his comment, so much as the fact that the longer he stood in front of her, the more unraveled she felt herself becoming.

"It's fine. I'm not offended, really." She tried to make her voice seem calmer than she felt.

He obviously wasn't buying it. "It seemed like…"

"It was nothing. I just thought you were asking something else. It was my mistake." She shook her head, willing the conversation to end.

He looked at her questioningly for a moment, before it dawned on him. His expression quickly shifted to aghast.

"I wasn't… I would never…" He leaned forward slightly, which made her instinctually lean back. She hoped he hadn't noticed, but his obvious flinch suggested otherwise. "I didn't mean to imply anything about your blood. Not that that kind of thing matters to me. It doesn't. It wouldn't matter if you came from a wizarding family…"

At this, she was done. Her nerves were too frayed to continue in this manner. She had to get out of there.

"I'm sorry Mr…"

"Lupin, Remus Lupin."

"I'm sorry Mr. Lupin." She spoke forcefully. "I really need to be getting back to my inventory. If you don't need to for anything store related, I'm going to go."

A desperate look crossed his face, and he held up a hand in almost mock surrender.

"I'm sorry, just wait! I didn't mean to pry, I was just curious. Based on your choice of reading material, you must have had some intensive education."

She glanced down in horror to see that he was gesturing at the book she'd been reading concerning time travel. It was a rookie mistake, not disguising the cover to something more begined. It was careless. After everything she had been through, she couldn't believe she had been so careless.

"Oh this? It's nothing really. Just a bit of light reading."

He smiled again, clearly hoping that their interaction was headed in a more positive direction. Why he wanted anything out of it, she didn't understand.

"I'm not sure that can be considered light reading under any definition of the phrase." He laughed. It was light, and so unlike the dry sardonic one of his future counterpart. "I have a friend with the same volume who said it was some of the most incomprehensible material she'd ever encountered, and seeing as she's thoroughly studied the subject, that's saying something."

Her heart stopped beating. Could what he be saying actually real? Or had she finally cracked?

"You know someone who's studied time travel?"

"Yeah. My best mate's wife can't get enough of it. She's a muggleborn, and when she found out she was a witch, one of the first things she asked about was whether time travel is real. I guess she got the notion from some muggle book she was obsessed with." He spoke with enthusiasm now, clearly pleased with her interest.

"'The Time Machine' by H.G. Wells." She said it more to herself than to him, but his face lit up either way.

"I think that's the one! Have you read it?"

She shook her head. "Not since I was a child."

"I think Lily was a bit disappointed when she found out you the whole thing was just theoretical. It became sort of a project for her in school. Every spare opportunity, we'd find her in the library researching time travel. She even got an apprenticeship in the Department of Mysteries to continue her studies."

It was almost too much to take in. Lily Potter had been an intern at the Department of Mysteries. Did Harry know that particular fact? She doubted it. The term she'd used to describe the Potters came back to her with astonishing irony.

'They're stories.'

Except here, they weren't. They were living breathing people, with interests and hobbies, hopes and dreams. And one of them could hold information that could help her return home.

She tried to keep her voice casual, as she inquired. "Has she found anything interesting?"

Remus laughed again, shaking his head.

"Couldn't tell us even if she wanted to. She may not have been a full Unspeakable, but they hold their apprentices to the same strict standards. Even now, she won't talk about it with much detail."

"She's no longer with the Department?" There was a definite edge to her voice, but she didn't think Remus noticed.

"Ummm, no. She chose to leave when she got pregnant. Wanted to stay home with the baby."

He blushed lightly. "I really shouldn't have said anything. She doesn't like to spread her research around."

"Why?" She hoped her voice displayed a level of nonchalance. This was dangerous territory. The first rule of time travel still stood, she couldn't draw too much attention to herself, and asking leading questions was not exactly the epitome of stealth.

"Well, you never know who might be listening, do you?" Remus sobered for a moment, and quickly glanced around the shop, most likely assuring himself that it was empty. "If ever fully realized, time travel would be a powerful form of magic. It would be foolish to take such a matter lightly."

"I understand." She tried to slow her beating heart. Here was her chance to connect with someone who might have the knowledge to send her home. And yet, she couldn't seem to eager. She couldn't give herself away. "Although, it is a shame. It's all very fascinating. Tell your friend is she was ever interested in chatting about it, I would love to hear her thoughts."

"I will." He nodded. "Although, there might be a slight problem with that plan."

Her brow furrowed. "What would that be?"

"It'll be hard to set up a meeting without knowing your name."

She blushed. Of course. It was so easy to forget here, especially when talking to someone who had known her most of her life.

"I'm Jane Beckett."

She did not hold out her hand to shake, but he gave her a wide wolfish smile anyways.

"It's nice to meet you Jane Beckett."

"You as well. Though, I do have actual work I need to get back to. If you'll excuse me."

His expression didn't change, and it left Hermione feeling more confused than anything. This Remus didn't know her, and would have no reason to try to get to know her. It was no use contemplating it, not while he was still standing in front of her at least.

"Of course. I'll see you around?"

She only nodded before fleeing into the back room. Hearing the front door bell ring, she knew he had gone.

* * *

A/N - I hope you all enjoy the first real chapter of this story. Right now, I have every chapter outlined, and most at least partially written. The plan is to upload weekly, with Friday being my usual day. I'd love to hear what you all think!


	3. Chapter 2

_Date:_

 _February 4th, 1980_

Living in the past was like reading your favorite book in a different language.

So many things were the same, and yet so decidedly different. Diagon Alley was the same street, but housed different shops. The clothes people donned as the walked were ones that Hermione was familiar with only through pictures and movies. Even the way people spoke, the expressions that they used, was odd and out of place to her.

She loathed it all.

The constant reminders that she was so far from home set her on edge. And the research, which was unceasing and utterly discouraging, didn't help matters at all. All she'd discovered in trying to find her way home was that she despised the study of time travel.

Aside from her brief soiree with a time turner in her third year, time travel had never been a subject of much interest to Hermione. It wasn't that the material wasn't fascinating, because it certainly was. It was just that the entire thing was so… so… theoretical. With time travel, nothing was certain. Even time turners, which were real and tangible, were a mystery; with their creator destroying any evidence of how they are made or function.

The abstract nature of it all was troubling to Hermione, as her problems were anything from hypothetical. They were real, and tangible, and not able to be solved by theory alone.

Since her accident she'd read roughly 22 books concerning time travel, the shop's entire inventory on the subject. Each had varying degrees of credibility.

Some were all theory, discussing the different possible ways that time travel could affect the timeline. Other books were more practical, and discussed accounts of others who had attempted the practice. These were all roughly the same in structure. They'd discuss how they subject had gone about their experiments, and how they had all, inevitably, failed.

Hermione's favorite so far had been a rather apocalyptic tome covering ancient ruins. It asserted that if a certain set of ruins were combined in the right scenario, they would trigger someone to travel backwards in time and kick start the end of their world. It wasn't helpful in the least, but the colorful language had been a nice change of pace.

That had been the one Remus had caught her reading. The same one that Lily had read.

Lily.

She was another problem entirely.

When she'd first come to the past, Hermione not only used the shop as a cover, but also as a source of materials. Now that she'd searched all the useful material, it was only logical that she should move on and find somewhere else with more variety. Maybe a library. Except….

Lily Potter had studied time travel in the very place that had sent her to the past. Having been an intern, she almost certainly had studied the Box. She was probably the person most suited in the entire world to help her with her research. It would be almost unthinkable to not try to pursue the possibility of an interview, and yet Hermione wasn't sure.

It didn't feel entirely ethical.

Hermione knew she couldn't change the past. It was a lesson she'd learned well in her third year. Experience with a time turner had taught her that time was cyclical. You couldn't go back and change something in the past, because, if you tried, you'd only find that you'd already gone back and done it before. While knowing this didn't really help her, it did give her some comfort. It allowed her to go out into the world without fear that her every movement was causing some catastrophic event.

No, no matter how much she wished otherwise, Lily & James Potters fate was sealed, and therefore should have no bearing as to whether or not she met either of them. Still, she couldn't think of the meeting without her stomach turning. Could she really sit across a table and chat with a woman she knew would die less than two years from then? Could she stand to take her advice and her research and use it to her own advantage?

Logically, yes, of course she could. If she wanted to get home, she had to accept any help she could, no matter the source. But would she be able to look Harry in the eyes afterward? How could he not resent her? She'd tell him there was nothing she could have done, that it went against every rule of nature. He'd assure her that he understood, but, in his heart, he wouldn't. What were the rules of nature to the man who had cheated death twice? He'd continue to be her friend, but it could never be the same. She would always be the witch who'd let his mother die.

She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of those thoughts. It was no use worrying about such things now, she reminded herself. The chance that she would ever actually meet Lily were slim to none.

No, if she were honest with herself, she knew she should cut her losses and move on. She'd done all she could at the shop. Seeing Remus had already been a lark, and an odd one at that. He'd asked her so many questions, as if wanting to get to know her, as if he already knew… No, he was just being nice. That was the kind of person Remus was, friendly and naturally curious. It had probably meant nothing to him.

She couldn't waste anymore time.

After a sleepless night of waring between her head and her heart, she was determined to give it one more week. If nothing happened in the next week, then she could move on in peace, confident in her choice. However, if something did happen...

'Don't you dare hope.' she told herself. 'Hope is something you can't afford.'

* * *

This time she saw him before he spoke.

She was re-shelving books toward the back of the store, leaving Owen to man the register. This suited him well, as it gave him the opportunity to flirt shamelessly with every witch that came through the door. The physical labor was good for her, as it gave her a reprieve from the constantly whirling thoughts in her head. She was perfectly content with the task, until she'd heard footsteps, and looked up to see a familiar intruder.

He was wandering the aisles, clearly looking for something, and before she could turn her back, his eyes caught hers. A spark of recognition shone, and he bound towards her grinning.

Hermione tried not to let her hopes rise at his appearance, but she felt her heart swell slightly despite her best efforts. After the uncertainty of ever seeing him again, his appearance now, so soon after their last interaction, was a relief.

"Good morning Jane." His voice was cheery, and it struck her as odd. His manner the previous evening had been markedly awkward, and yet today, he seemed confident.

"Oh, hello." She nodded at him slightly, before returning to her task at hand. She still couldn't appear too eager. It would not do her any good to have him grow suspicious of her.

"How are you today?" He asked politely, still with a large smile plastered on his face.

"Fine. And yourself?"

"Perfectly well. Thanks for asking."

They lulled into an awkward silence between them, as she continued shelving. After a moment, seizing on her Gryffindor courage, she decided to forge forward.

"Is there any particular book that you need help finding?" She asked, finally pausing in her task, and turning towards him fully.

"No. I actually try to stick to just buying one book per month, which I got yesterday. It takes some self control, but I manage." He chuckled lightly at his small joke, but she only smiled lightly.

"Do you need help with something else then?" Her voice was polite, and despite her best efforts, slightly strained. As much as she'd been hoping to see him, this wasn't going exactly as she'd thought it would. In her mind, the only reason he could be here was to tell her that Lily had agreed to meet, but the longer they stood without getting to the point, the more anxious she became.

He visibly lost some of his bravado, and began to shuffle from foot to foot.

"I… ummm... do you enjoy reading?"

Immediately, Hermione's guard raised, and weariness began to spread within her. She racked her brain trying to think of any reason he might be questioning her like this. Coming up with none, she decided to be as vague as possible.

"I work in a bookshop." She said dryly.

"Yes, I've spotted that." He leaned against the bookcase, trying to make himself comfortable. "I just didn't think that it was a generally held belief that your place of work dictated your interests. For instance, your coworker over there doesn't strike me as much of a reader."

He indicated to Owen, who was doing his best Gilderoy Lockhart impression trying to impress the young witch who had just come in.

"Maybe he's the exception." She replied flippantly, trying not to encourage the conversation.

"And you're the rule?" His eyebrows rose. "What do you enjoy reading? I can only assume that time travel isn't your only interest."

"No, it's not." Her words were quieter, and she was beginning to feel trapped by his line of questioning. This was not how this was supposed to go. Why would he care about her reading habits? Was he questioning her for some other reason?

"Then, what else are you interested in?"

"Mr. Lupin…" She started, somewhat warningly.

"You should call me Remus."

"No, I really don't think I should." Her voice was low and sarcastic, and she saw him flinch. Instead of shrinking away, however, he seemed to rise to the challenge.

"Why not?" He questioned.

"Because I don't know you! And you don't know me!" She exclaimed, finally letting some of the tension she'd been building release.

"I think you may have failed to notice that I'm trying to get to know you." His voice was light, almost gentle, the kind that you'd use when trying not to scare an animal away.

"And why would you be doing that?" Hermione couldn't understand his motive at all, and that, combined with the very familiarity of him, was beginning to drive her mad.

"Well…" He stopped, his confidence seeming to falter. "I'd like to take you out sometime."

Huh.

For a moment her mind was blank, unable to process what he'd just said.

"What?" She was surprised her voice even worked

"If you'd let me, I'd like to take you to dinner. We don't have to talk about reading if that's a sensitive subject for you." The way he said it, one would think it was the most casual request in the world, though she could see that it took him some effort.

"I don't understand."

"You don't understand that I'm asking you on a date?" He asked, faking a laugh to hide the tension that he felt.

"I thought..."

"What?" He seemed genuinely concerned, his brow furrowing in confusion.

She'd been a fool, and worse than that, she'd been inexplicably cruel. So focused on her own motives, she'd never stopped to seriously consider his. She'd written him off as artificially nice, because it was easier than thinking of him for what he truly was. A person. A man. Someone with feelings and motivations seperate to her own. He was not some tool to be used for her own advantage.

And now, facing the stark reality was like a slap in the face.

No. It was obvious. She couldn't do that to him. No. Not even if he had one hundred friends who studied time travel.

She couldn't sit across from him and pretend to be normal when she knew the suffering that faced him in the future; when she knew the date of his death. It would be a mockery, one that he didn't deserve. Not for the chance that he might be able to introduce her to someone who might be able to help her.

She shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry, but I can't."

"Oh." He didn't make any moves to walk away, but instead stood there quietly for a minute with a contemplative look on his face. "Can I ask why not?"

She felt herself grow defensive at that. No, she couldn't explain why, and no, it wasn't her fault. She'd not asked for any of this. She didn't ask to be yanked from her world. She didn't want to meet anyone she'd know in the future. And frankly, she didn't understand his intentions at all. Why would he want to go out with her in the first place? What gave him the right to even ask?

"What if I said you couldn't?" Her words weren't exactly angry, but they had enough of edge on them to give away her irritation. It was the harshest she'd ever spoke to Remus, in either time, and she immediately regretted the words.

"Then, I guess I'd have to be fine with that." He shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets, while his shoulder shrugged in defeat. "Have a good rest of your day then."

He began to walk away, and she felt her heart pull in anguish. Merlin, she really was a monster.

This was Remus. Kind, sweet, Remus who spent his entire life feeling like he wasn't good enough because of his disease. She couldn't understand his rationale for asking her out, and there was no way she could allow it to happen, but she also didn't want to hurt him. Not anymore than she already inadvertently had, at least.

"Wait, I'm sorry. That was inexcusably rude." She said, now desperate to try to make up for any harm she'd caused.

He stopped, and turned around. His face wasn't nearly as open as it had been before, but she could clearly see the hurt in his eyes. "You don't have to apologize. You shouldn't feel obligated to go out with…"

"No, it's not that." She cut him off quickly. "It's just… I didn't do a very good job verbalizing what I wanted to say. You caught me off guard. I didn't mean it the way it seemed." She flinched at her jumbled words. At least he'd stopped. She had a chance to make this right.

"Ok. How did you mean it?" His words were calm, but no smile graced his face as he spoke.

"It's not you. It's me."

His sudden laughter startled her.

"Wow, that's a line."

She blushed at the realization of exactly what she'd said, and rushed again to correct herself. "No... again I'm not good at this. I don't date. Anybody. Period."

His eyebrows rose, and his head turned slightly, considering her words.

"At all?" He questioned, seemingly genuinely surprised.

"No. It's just not something I'm interested in right now."

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly thinking the whole situation over. "I guess that's fair."

"So please, don't take it personally. I'm sure you're lovely." She tried to sound reassuring, and even smiled slightly, though she was sure it looked strained.

"I'll try to keep that in mind." His smile wasn't nearly as wide as earlier, although Hermione was glad to see a smile nonetheless. "I'll see you around Jane."

"Goodbye Remus."

* * *

 _Date:_

 _February 14th, 1980_

It had been ten days since she'd seen Remus.

If she were honest with herself, she didn't know why she had expected to see him again. Typically, people who are shot down don't come back for a repeat performance. It should have been a good thing, his absence. It would allow her to move on to another place, a more productive place, without worrying that she had missed an opportunity. She should be relieved.

She looked at the bookshop around her, wondering for what felt like the hundredth time why she wasn't relieved.

He had come into her life like a tidal wave, doing just enough damage to disturb her life, before retreating and leaving her to pick up the pieces. Before she'd seen him, she'd been fine. Well… relatively fine. As fine as someone could be in her situation.

After he left, however, she was forced to face the reality of her situation.

She was lonely. Desperately so. She'd been so focused on her research, on her survival, on following her own self-inflicted rules, that she'd failed to notice how blisteringly lonely she'd become. Sure, she was constantly around people in the shop, but when was the last time she'd had a meaningful conversation with someone? How many weeks had it been since she'd laughed, genuinely laughed, with someone?

How had she been so thick as to not have recognized it before?

What Remus had offered her was companionship. He was a person that could help her carry her load. He would never be able to actually help her, not in an academic sense, but he could give her a chance to take a break from chaos that had become her reality, and connect, really connect, with another person.

And she had turned him away.

Of course, it had been the right thing to do. She wasn't wrong in her assessment of the situation. Forming a relationship, romantic or not, would never be fair to him. That didn't stop her from regretting that she couldn't though.

In his absence, it'd been all she'd been able to think about; the possibilities of what could have been playing on a constant loop in her mind. It was almost pathetic how she kept up her work in the shop, just for the chance that she might see him again. It was an act of self pity.

"I've been thinking about what we talked about the other day." A voice startled her out of her thoughts, and she turned to see the very man who had occupied them.

"It's you." She turned around, and gaping at Remus, as he leaned casually against a nearby bookcase. Hermione stared at him hard for a few seconds to make sure he was really there, and remarkably enough, he was.

"Yes, and I've been thinking." He stated plainly, not acknowledging her surprise. He held himself differently than he had the other day. While previously he'd been all false bravado and nervous energy, now his stance was similar to someone that was preparing for battle.

Something else was different to.

"You're hurt." She exclaimed, pointing to the nasty looking cut above one of his eyebrows. He only shrugged it off.

"It's nothing." He replied nonchalantly.

"It looks infected." Her eyes were still focused on it, as her mind raced through the dates on her calendar.

There hadn't been a full moon in the last ten days, which meant… He'd been out for the Order. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. Remus had never shared much with them about his time with the original Order. They were clearly painful memories to relive, and none of the Golden Trio had ever had the heart to push him to.

This Remus was living those memories. While he wasn't unharmed, it seemed he'd gotten out of this one relatively unscathed. She wondered just how bad it had already gotten. But no, she stopped herself before she thought about it for too long. The Order here wasn't any of her business.

"Believe me, I've had worse. Anyways, we're getting off track here. I've been thinking about what you said concerning dating." He continued.

"Ok." She responded, hesitatingly, slightly worried where this was heading.

"Well, I've come up with a compromise. Just because you aren't interested in dating doesn't mean we can't get to know one another." He started, smiling as if he'd solved a particularly tough riddle. "We could be friends."

"Oh."

Friends.

Her first instinct was to say no immediately. Nothing had really changed. It would still be unethical. She'd still be withholding massive amounts of information from him. It would be selfish, and mean, and…

She wanted to say yes so very badly.

"I… don't know what to say." She answered honestly.

"Yes, is always a good answer." He replied cheekily. While his posture remained casual, she could see a sort of tension in his stance. This conversation clearly mattered to him. For some reason, she mattered to him.

Hermione thought about it for a moment before continuing.

"Is that really what you want? Just to be my friend?"

His eyebrows rose slightly. "That's what I said, wasn't it?"

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to seem… hesitant. It's just that I'm slightly confused. Before you asked me on a date, and now you come in claiming all you'd like to be is friends. Which is it?" She needed to be sure. If this was going to work, if she were to give in and let him in as a friend, he had to know now that they could never be more.

"Yes, I can see why you might be confused." He paused for a moment, looking at his feet. "Look, I'll be honest with you. I think you're beautiful, and smart, and wildly mysterious, and I would love for the chance to take you out."

Her heart dropped. "Remus…"

"No, let me finish. I can accept that you're not interested in getting to know me romantically. What I can't accept is losing the chance to get to know you at all. I think you'd make a good friend, so why not?" He replied earnestly. The conviction in his voice rang true, but still...

"Will it be enough, just being friends? You have to know upfront that my opinion on dating is not going to change."

He didn't answer right away, clearly considering her words carefully. The silence weighed heavily on her until he continued.

"Yes. Jane, I'd never want to take anything you're not willing to give."

She believed him. Merlin, she had no actual reason to, but she believed him. Her heart started beating a little faster as she considered what was actually happening. A sudden horrifying thought struck her, and she couldn't let this go forward before putting it into words.

"What if I'm not what you expect? You don't really know me. What if you're disappointed?"

His grin was back, and he shook his head as if she'd said something ridiculous. "Trust me, I won't be."

"I guess if you're sure…" She trailed off, not exactly know how to finish her thought. It suddenly struck her how terribly formal this all felt. "Friends it is."

Remus looked at her as if she'd given him a brand new Firebolt, his face awash in joy. They stood for a moment, with him smiling down at her, before he seemed to remember himself, and blushed slightly. He cleared his throat, and powered onward.

"Well, if we are going to be friends, we should get started on the basic friendship protocol."

"Of course." She said with a small smile. A part of herself still rebelled at the idea of letting this go any further, but at this point she was not sure she could stop herself. "Remind me exactly what the protocol is again."

He huffed, rolling his eyes in fake annoyance. "You must be really out of practice if you can't remember the simple stuff. Friendships must be built on general understanding of the other person."

"And how are you expecting that we gain such understanding?" She asked, interested in the game that he was concocting.

"Oh, you know, the usual way." He said, shrugging his shoulders. "Get pissed, swap life stories, commiserate over old disappointments. Things of that nature."

It was her turn to look skeptical. "That's how you usually make friends? Get pissed and cry about the past?"

"You know, come to think about it, I may be a bit rusty at making friends, as well." He said, his eyebrows knitting together in contemplation. "I haven't really had to do it since I was 11 years old and a first year at Hogwarts."

"I can't imagine you got pissed as a first year."

He looked slightly surprised at her little joke, but obviously took it as a good sign. "Don't start underestimating me, love. I'll have you know my mates and I got into heaps of trouble at school."

"And that's something you brag about?" She queried.

"I couldn't have you go around thinking I'm anything less than a bona fide bad boy." She took in his smirking face for a moment before turning back to the work that she'd been neglecting since he'd come in. "What about you then, what kind of student were you?"

"I was... Studious." She said, feeling that it wasn't necessarily a lie. Because, she didn't really want to lie to him. Not about the things that she didn't have to.

"Hmmm… I can't imagine that. You don't seem like the bookish type at all." He remarked in fake disbelief.

"Ha Ha" she responded sarcastically.

He sobered slightly, and looked at her sincerely. "But, seriously, I know you didn't go to Hogwarts. Where did you go?"

Hermione thought back to the cover story she had concocted, and regretted having to use it. But that was the bargain she'd have to make. She'd let him in, and allow him to assuage her loneliness, while at the same time being wracked with the constant guilt of lying to him.

"I attended Beauxbaton." She stated. It was better to keep facts short, and not elaborate unless completely necessary.

"In France?" He queried. "How very unpatriotic."

"The decision to send me there had very little to do with patriotism, I assure you." Hermione snorted.

"Then what was it about?"

"My father is French. His parents had attended Beauxbaton and he'd always dreamed of going, but since he was a squib, he never got the chance. When I started showing signs of magic, he was adamant that I should attend where he could not." She smiled, as she recalled the kernel of truth that had led to the story.

While her father was not a squib or even French, he had always been a Francophile, and was severely disappointed when his own parents hadn't sent him to an exclusive French boarding school. As an adult, he frequently took his family on trips to the continent, and had planned to send Hermione abroad before her Hogwarts letter arrived.

"And your mother? Is she… English?" Hermione heard the question he wanted, but was too polite to ask.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, my mother is English, and she's a muggle. Not that it matters."

"Of course it doesn't matter." Remus started quickly. "My mum's a muggle as well."

"Really?" Hermione said with real surprise. The Lupin in her time had never shared the fact with her.

"Yeah. She stumbled across a boggart in the woods and was frightened nearly to death. Luckily my dad was around, recognized what it was, and 'saved' her." He put finger quotes around the word saved. "Didn't get around to telling her she was never in any actual danger until after they were married. Decent bloke he is."

"That's a nice story. Your parents must really love each other."

"It is, and they do." A wistful smile crossed his face. "They're good people, my parents. I don't get to see them nearly enough, as they live in Wales."

"Yes, because wizards haven't come up with ways to travel long distances quickly." The sarcasm dripped from her voice, and it was his turn to roll his eyes at her.

"You've got me there." He chuckled, if not a little sadly. Hermione wondered if it wasn't physical distance that was keeping the Lupins apart, but emotional. "And what about you? Are you the good daughter who visits mummy and daddy every Sunday for roast?"

Her face fell. "No, actually. That would be quite impossible. They both passed last year."

He immediately looked aghast at his thoughtlessness.

"Oh, Jane. I'm so sorry."

"Thank you." she turned as not to make eye contact. Lying about her parents felt wrong. While claiming they were dead was easier to explain than that they were living and currently raising an infant version of herself, it still felt like a betrayal. "It was an accident. Ran off the road in the storm. I was told they didn't suffer."

"That doesn't make it easier though." He added softly.

"No it doesn't."

Their conversation lulled, and Hermione tried not to let her hurt show as her mind moved to her own parents. Had they retrieved their memories only to have their only daughter disappear? No... don't think about it.

"So, what do you think of the carnivorous plants of the Amazon?" He asked, his voice artificially cheerful. The oddness of it was enough to break her melancholy.

"Where did that come from?" She laughed.

"The book you're holding." He indicated towards her hands. "'The Complete Encyclopedia of Carnivorous Amazonian Plants and Fungi. Vol. 1.' Surely there can't be enough to warrant two volumes?"

She shook her head. "No. I mean... I don't know. I've never read this one. Just re-shelving it."

"You mean to tell me that someone actually took the time to pick _that_ book off the shelf?" He laughed.

"Apparently." She took a minute to look down at the book, thinking. "Maybe they're planning a foreign expedition and wanted to get caught up on the terrain."

"If that's the case, I hope the poor fellas changed his mind."

"Why do you say that?" Hermione asked.

"Well, if this book did its job it should have scared him out of the idea entirely."

Not being able to hold it in any longer, Hermione laughed, and Remus joined in.

* * *

A/N- Thank you everybody for reading! And especially thank you to those who have taken the time to leave a review. I really love hearing from you all. For the reviewer who commented on the date discrepancy in the last chapter, thank you so much for pointing it out, and I've gone back and changed it to show the correct date! This was by far the hardest chapter of the whole story to write (I don't always go in chronological order), but in the end I'm happy with it. Hope you enjoy, and I'll see you next Friday for another update!


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